Mutiny
by The-Black-Alice
Summary: "Have you heard of 'The Black Pearl?" No? Well an 20 year old Jack hadn't either, not until he meets a young Hector Barbossa amongst the crew of The Swallow. A tale of friendship, betrayal, deals with Davy Jones and of two destinies that the locker and even death itself cannot stop. The untold back story of Hector & Jack that led to the viscous Mutiny aboard The Black Pearl
1. Chapter 1

Mutiny

"Scrub down those swabs ye scallywags!" Hands kneaded over the rancid wet cloth that was sloshed over the grimy wooden floors of the hull. The young man wiped an arm over his seeping brow as the wind caressed his calluses with open salt from the sea, "Put your backs into it or I'll have you up the brig!"

"Aye Sir!" Jack barked abruptly as he pushed on, cursing the first mate under bated breath as he wandered away in a scowl that carried on his thick heavy shoulders. He sneered at the sight as further orders were barked between other members of the crew, "You ol' goat"

Turning back to his work he stared out to the horizon, the open ocean that spanned further than the eye could imagine. It was the very embodiment of adventure; of freedom, that could not be offered on any land nor by any king. There were no rules or law, except for that of the code, but they were meagre guidelines Jack had thought.

On the cusp of his 18th birthday, filled with the stories his father had regaled him over a half-warm drink of something blindingly alcoholic, he had signed himself over to The Swallow, under Captaincy of a lord of the king, a lord gone rogue - gone pirate. Now he was a hand of the crew, few years grown on the rolling waves. He had come to learn the taste of sweat on a hard days work, the smells of the crew after months sail without making port, the burns of the sun had tanned his skin and gun powder had turned his fingers grey. Together, himself and the ship had become one, and there was nothing better… Well, except perhaps - Jack eyed the man at the wheel behind him, a man charred and carved in wars unseen. Jack pictured himself standing there, ordering his own first mate and his own crew as they endeavoured to pillage the corners of the vast unknown. A half-smile piqued the corner of his mouth, yes, one day that would be him stood there, but – he frowned – in a better looking hat, feathers were just ridiculous.

"Captain!" a cry came from above as the crow's nest howled signalling to starboard side. There a black silhouette sat between sea and sky. Sparrow tossed his rag into the water bucket as he raced for the railing to get a closer look at the ship that blazed into sight. A shallow limp found his sided as Captain Hawkins peered through his golden eyeglass. Close at his side was the first mate, Master Spriggs who scowled Jack up and down, clearly annoyed he had left his post.

"The Revenge?" he hissed as his eyes dragged away to the bigger problem at hand.

"Aye, so Cap' Gow wants a gander do he?" the eyeglass folded with a sharp snap, as the flag from the mast in view flew high in black and white. Gold teeth ground together in thought as the rumbling on deck grew louder. Small portholes widened as long stems appeared on the sides of the vessel, "All hands! Hoist the main and to cannons! Take up the guns and wave the colours high!"

Frozen, he watched as the crew flew alive, weaving between the frame of the ship. Some went for the cannons, others for their guns or swords and the ropes. Captain Hawkins took the wheel ad swung it hard to starboard, moaning The Swallow as it obediently obeyed her masters hand.

Whistling came from the corner of his ear. Growing. Before an almighty shower of splinters forced him to the deck. Shaken, he scrambled away, ducking between the crew who aimed to return the favour. High shrills of shrapnel sang overhead, one or two taking it victims swiftly. The bow shivered as it was peppered with cannon fire. Inching across the floor a large slam of a man fell in front. A hole in his temple seeped in red as light left the pirates eye, the sight was quick but seemed to last for hours.

Snapping caved from above as the masts intertwined each other like a clasping hand. Cries as falling men dove into the trough between the vessels. Blood boiled his ears as a firm grasp pulled Jack to his feet.

"You! Boy, take to the ropes and pull us free!" ordered Spriggs, shaking his arm. Jack looked to the rigging, mangled to the naked eye.

"But-" Jack offered to protest, he wasn't good with heights, that's why he never ventured to the crow's nest and his nose was often pressed to the deck while swabbing. Mindlessly he accepted the sword being dug into his grip as he stared at the task before him.

"Now!" he cried as he threw Jack to the ropes.

"Aye" placing the blade between baring teeth he knitted his fingers into the blistering and pulled up, vowing not to look below. Bending in the wind he wound his way around the mast the buckled under the pressure. Throwing a leg over the closed canvases he aimed to shuffle over and cut the ties free. Masts entwined each other like snakes as Jack flew about to cut any rope the eye could see.

Growling came out the corner of his ear, much to his alarm it wasn't himself in frustration. A russet glare scowled him as the mast opposite edged his way across. The young man drew his sword and took it in hand. Carefully bending into the curving wood that held the ships in place. Jack slinked back, the waves dipping a mile beneath them his forward slid his body forward. Waving the hilt about the man signalled for Jack to raise his own hand and quickly get to his feet or be slain where he lay.

Seen on so many a day, where the sun blistered the skins of begrudged Pirates in combat, honing their skills of craft and cheat in order to win the unfair fight.

Raising his blade he locked the other man and directed a swing at it. Clashing of steel made the ring bounce between them. The sound quivered the hold in Jack's arm as he struck again. Over and over he lashed out, immobile, waiting for the other man to do something other than blocking.

Jack smirked; perhaps the reason why he hadn't attempted a blow was because he couldn't. Jack had never held a sword before this moment, much less knew how to wield it. His father had been said to be a master, so maybe it was in his blood, innate and dormant.

Left, right, left, he muttered under his breath, the blows taking their toll on his body. The other man seemed to smile, a laugh, at Jack? Nonsense, unless it was-

Suddenly the sword went from block to attack, thrusting, lunging forward. Jack yelped as he struggled to land his footing, slowly remembering the length of the drop should he misstep. Wobbling on his toes, he blocked with everything he had, up, left, right.

A wave to his left flank sliced the rigging, narrowly missing Jacks thigh. Jack barked a bitter laugh

"Missed me!" he waved his sword high, triumphant.

"No" with that the pirate dipped to his knee, revealing the whistling rig pulley that came waving into his face. The sky went blank as he was knocked off his feet to his back. The canvas post banged into his spine bringing him quickly back to reality. He rolled off, gripping for his life – releasing his blade to the chaos below.

The tip of his opponents' blade carved his chin. A taunting grin pulled the man's face above.

"Well? Go on!" his fingers grew numb under his weight; squeezing uncomfortably he struggled to regain feeling, "Kill me!"

The glare of the sun slid down the blade as it was raised high in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

"What are ye waitin' for aye?" the sun slid in the nicks of the blade held high above Jacks head, if he didn't hurry he would fall instead and miss his chance altogether. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, hushing prayers that it would all be over soon. A swift slam came to his front, short of his fingertips that made him jerk in surprise. The ship dipped from side to side as the masts untangled themselves .

Jack yelped as he finally let go, grabbing for the first thing he could see. A rope - A rope, perfect then he could quietly climb down to safety. Gripped tight he went flying, thrusted by the long drop. For a moment the road was almost gliding like a gull, miles over head of the deck. He waited as the ropes wound themselves around the mast before letting go, unbelievably thankful to be on the ground again.

"The next time I do that" drunken by his sea legs he wobbled up on deck as he wiped his hands firmly down his shirt, "Be after I've had the rum"

"Thar! She's sunk!" a loud cry came from above as the crows-man pointed at their opposing vessel who had pull her sea skirt up to deck level, "Seas taken the ship!"

"Aye and her Cap'n too by right" the eyeglass clicked into place and landed in the old Captain's right pocket, "Woe to the foolhardy who dare to cross his hilt with me aye Sprigg?" His first mate, a much sturdier man came to his side again, sweat beading of his topless body from his battle a few moments prior.

"Aye Captain, now what of the survivors?"

"Survivors?" Hawkins cringed, of the bloodshed that now carved his planks, of by what means did any of Gow's men survived. By only two methods came to mind, they would be quakers or swordsmen.

"Aye sir, three." Spriggs toss a glance to the deck before them where three men stood for judgement. "They be not much but deck hands" Ah, quakers they were but men lost, men can be replaced. If they had use, they'd be needed, even if in number only.

"For that I'd need a word to seal their fate to The Swallow." Thrusting the wheel to his first mate he lowered himself onto the deck to address the three soak sponged men harbouring on his ship. The first two were veterans, most likely a cook and the lookout but the last was younger and strong by the looks of him. "Men! You have no home, no boat or isle to ride so we be ye best hope for returning to your mums' and babes the next time we make port. Until such a time, will ye serve under me and me first mate or be struck down where you stand and fed as dry bone to Davy Jones?"

"You have me word, sir" The cook replied with a slight shake in his voice, the lookout nodded silent in his response, wary of the crew he had just bludgeoned against, but the third who held a firm eye from Jack, growled a low "Aye"

"Not good" Jack mumbled into the rum he had smuggled from the cellar.

xxx

"You, boy, show a leg and tie the cannons" Spriggs whipped at the young man what had been sprawled out on deck, be a quaker the Captain thinks, then he'd need to shape up if he were to be cannon fodder for the crew in their next encounter.

"Aye, sir" the gruff bark sat on a pair of tired shoulders which made to tie the cannons to the hull. Jack shuffled over quietly, in preparation for making his proud grand entrance.

"I lived, just soes you know" he grinned, the man slid a trying look back at him.

"If I had the intention of killin' ya-" he punctured his words with the teasing of the knot tying the cannon, "Yard be dead by now" he hissed before brashly pushing past him.

"So why not kill me?" Jack called after him.

"If the ships hadn't finished their tango on the blue, I would have struck ya down!" he snarled back at Jack, who pursed his lips together in knowing approval

"So then, you missed?" the slick slide of the scowl edged the man's frustration. The lick of the corner of tongue simmered his anger, Jack revelled in it, with all this mans skill with a sword it was proved useless against sea legs, "How… Unfortunate" he feigned a deep frown, causing the man to turn back; confused. Jack met his gaze again in a wide grin, curious hazel flecks sparked his dark iris, "Because you won't get that chance again, mate"


End file.
